


Bringing Him Home

by Vultoni_and_Arnaera



Series: VnA’s Fic Dump - HSC Edition [8]
Category: Henry Stickmin Series (Video Games)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Dadforce, Found Family, Frostbite, Gen, No Beta, One Shot, Rescue Missions
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-03
Updated: 2020-12-03
Packaged: 2021-03-09 22:07:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,633
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27853958
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vultoni_and_Arnaera/pseuds/Vultoni_and_Arnaera
Summary: Henry has been missing for months. He vanished one night out of the blue, leaving no trace.Some believe he's run away, returning to his criminal ways. Surely his pledge to work as a private investigator and government operative was just a ruse, a ploy to shake off suspicion before he makes his getaway.His commanding officer disagrees. There is something else going on here, something more sinister than a desertion. And Galeforce is determined to get to the bottom of this, to find Henry and bring him back. He knows he wouldn't just abandon the military.If Henry could come back, he knows he would. There must be something keeping him away.He's right, of course.
Relationships: Hubert Galeforce & Henry Stickmin
Series: VnA’s Fic Dump - HSC Edition [8]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2002828
Comments: 5
Kudos: 100





	Bringing Him Home

**Author's Note:**

> Some Dadforce for the soul. One of my favorite tropes in the fandom.
> 
> Kind of an AU for Fleeing the Complex where Henry didn't attempt escape.
> 
> If you don't follow me on tumblr ignore this, but last week I accidentally deleted my tumblr while trying to do something else. I got my url back though, so that's the same. Link is here (https://vultoni-and-arnaera.tumblr.com)
> 
> Cross-posted on tumblr at vultoni-and-arnaera.  
> Feedback of any kind is always appreciated!

"I suggest you return my operative, Petrov, or you will leave me no choice."

There was nothing but contempt in those steel-toned eyes. The crook of the warden's mouth was a facsimile of a smirk that looked out of place on his scarred lips.

"I will not. That criminal will stay locked up where he belongs."

It takes a good deal of willpower to not start yelling at Petrov. He was a distinguished member of the army and could not loose his temper over something like this.

Even if hearing him talk about the reformed thief who became like a son to him in such a way made him want to do more than just yell.

"Henry Stickmin was pardoned for his key assistance in arresting the leaders of the Toppat Clan and bringing down their airship. Since then he has been employed by the military as a covert operative and private investigator. He has committed no crimes since the time of his pardon. You don’t have a right to keep him locked up here."

The great bear of a man beside Petrov takes a step forward. The warden stops him with one hand.

"We both know that criminals don't change. They can't help themselves; it's in their nature. My actions were simply preventative. Stickmin will always be a criminal, and as such he should be in prison."

He wants to refute that claim with every fiber of his being, to point out how narrow-minded that is. There were a hundred ways he could state Henry's integrity, how in such a short time he had changed so much. That once given a stable job and positive reinforcement, Henry had bloomed into a loyal and competent operative.

But all of that would fall on deaf ears. Dmitri Johannes Petrov clearly did not care about the finer details of his captives. All he saw were the black marks on their records. He saw prisoners before he saw people.

"I take full responsibility for his actions, Petrov. Should he return to his criminal ways, he will be punished accordingly. Until then, he is by all legal measures an innocent man. So I will say it again, return Henry Stickmin to us. The military has custody over him and keeping him here is a violation of that custody."

The smirk twisted into a sadistic grin, "you think I care for your custody? He will stay here until he rots, as is deserved."

Forget loosing his temper, Galeforce was this close to knocking Petrov to the ground. He may have only boxed as a hobby, but back in the day he was damn good at it.

No way in hell would he be leaving Henry here to die. While maybe not an innocent man, he proved that he could do better; and even though he slipped up sometimes, he was still trying. His old habits, the behaviors that came from living for years as a criminal, were hard for him to break. But he didn't give up trying, no matter how much he struggled with them.

Henry had more than earned this second chance. He'd come through for them, stayed through hell and high water.

This was the least he could do in return.

"That is not for you to decide, Petrov. I have official orders for his release. Defying me any longer is a direct violation of those orders. Should you not comply, you could be removed from your position and tried for your crimes."

He produces a rolled-up documents, shielded against the snow and tied with a red ribbon.

A scoff, "your government's orders mean nothing to me. They don't have jurisdiction here."

He unfurls the paper, showing the signature and seal, "these orders aren't from my government. They're from yours."

No response, only stunned silence. Good.

"Now I will ask one last time. Return my operative, or I will bring the law into this for your non-compliance. And it is you who will be locked away."

There are several seconds of silence as Petrov looks between him and the document. A murderous glint appears in his eyes, and for a moment Galeforce worries this will turn into a shoot-out.

Then the warden grumbles and turns to the mountain of a man beside him.

"Grigori, go get Stickmin from his cell and bring him to the main office."

The man, Grigori, stalks off without a word. There's a loosening of the tension in the air as he complies.

It was finally over. The countless days and weeks spent searching after his disappearance were not going to be in vain.

They were going to bring Henry home.

* * *

The entire prison was the same shade of gray. It had been painted in places in an attempt to add color, but even that was chipped and fading.

It was like all the life was sucked out of this place, leaving behind only pale remnants of anything that entered.

The main office wasn't much better, with the only standouts being the dark wood bookcases and the imposing desk that dominated the center of the room.

Petrov, as drab as the rest of the building, pulled a file out of an equally gray cabinet. Henry's name was printed across the front, and he flipped it open.

A few more flips, a couple signatures on the gathered papers, a final stamp of a seal on the first page, and it was done. Henry was a free man once more.

The warden had already checked the document containing the release order. He went over every inch of it, likely trying to find some minute flaw that could render it illegitimate. There was none, and he begrudgingly handed it back.

Now all that was left was to wait for the guard to return with Henry.

They didn't have to wait long. The thick metal door behind them opened and two people walked in: the guardsman and his operative.

Henry kept his eyes on the ground and was doing everything he could to make himself seem smaller. He was disheveled and pale, with bruise-like shadows under his eyes. There was no response as Grigori stepped away to make room for the warden to approach, key ring in hand.

He sorted through the mess of silver and brass until he came up with one that had a small square end and no teeth. Petrov slotted it into the cuffs that encased Henry's hands.

There was a click and the metal shell split in half.

Henry rubbed his now-free hands. They were much paler than the rest of him, with the tips of his fingers being tinged whitish-blue.

There's a scowl on Petrov's face as he hands Henry over. He clearly was not happy to see him walk free.

Well tough shit. Henry was his operative, and getting him out of here was his first priority.

"Thank you for your cooperation, Petrov," he says in a tone that makes it clear he thinks otherwise. The glare he gets in return tells him the feeling is mutual.

He nods to the small group of soldiers that make up his escort. They file out of the room, only leaving him, Henry, and the pair of Wall employees.

Galeforce leads Henry out of the office. They're at the door when the warden's voice stops them.

"I will let him go this time. But when he messes up, and he will, I will personally drag him back to his cell. That's a promise, General."

He doesn't miss the way Henry goes rigid at his voice, the first reaction he's shown since their arrival.

Galeforce won't dignify that with a response. The metal door shuts behind them, cutting off the warden's scathing stare. Beside him, Henry's shoulders slump. He seems to draw in on himself and begins to shiver.

It's nothing like the confident and snarky operative that left the military base for a night out and never came back.

Galeforce puts a hand on his back, feeling how cold he was under the thin, gray prison uniform. Henry tenses and he almost pulls his hand away. Then he relaxes, leaning into the grounding touch.

He's still drawn in on himself, shrinking away from every little sound.

Until they got out of The Wall, all he could do was offer this small bit of comfort.

* * *

The spare coat is too big on him, practically swallowing Henry. It was tailored for someone much larger and goes halfway down his legs. He has to roll up the sleeves to fit his hands through.

It doesn't seem to bother him. If anything, the extra material allows him to huddle into it.

He was still barely responding to them, only blankly staring at the floor as they got up in the air. It was obvious he wasn't going to say the first word.

That's fine. He doesn't have to.

"Are you injured anywhere? There's a medic with us if you're hurt," he says in a gentle tone. No need to spook him.

Henry shakes his head and raises his hands, the sleeves of the coat slipping off them, "no Sir. I'm not injured."

It's short, formal, and to the point.

Very unlike him, the mute ex-con who snarked off to anyone and everyone.

"This will be a long flight. If you're tired, it might be best to get some sleep. You look like you need it."

"I'm not tired," he signs stiffly.

"Only if you're certain. Feel free to rest if you want to."

He looks away, then back as he replies, "thank you, Sir."

There's something wrong here. Well, other than the obvious.

Henry's signs are stiff and almost clumsy. He is also signing much slower than normal, and while he could chalk that up to the obvious exhaustion he was hiding, something else about it was off.

Galeforce finally realizes what it is. As Henry signs the last of his gratitude, there's a pained look on his face.

He said he wasn't injured and didn't appear to be lying, but he was obviously in pain.

Henry sets his hands back in his lap, and he subconsciously follows the movement with his eyes. He sees the same paleness he did in the main office, the same blueish tint he assumed was just from the cold.

A suspicion forms in his mind, one he hopes is wrong.

"Henry, can I see your hands?" Galeforce asks, keeping the dredges of worry from his voice.

He looks up, almost startled. The fabric of the jacket shifts as he complies.

Henry's hands are calloused and scarred. Years of plying his illegal trade left them rough and weathered. They're far too pale now, and the definite hardness of the skin confirms his fears.

Galeforce calls the medic over, letting go of Henry's hands as he begins to speak, "don't sign. Moving the joints could cause more damage."

Henry looks up, alarmed. He feels a bit of guilt for scaring him like that, but making sure he didn't hurt himself was more important.

"Your hands are frostbitten. It doesn't look severe, but we need to make sure not to cause any more damage. We will need to check your feet as well, but that can wait until we arrive at base."

The medic reaches them with a field kit in hand. She takes a seat and inspects the damage, gently prodding the discolored skin. Henry doesn't even flinch. It must be numb there.

She finishes her inspection and turns to report, "it's definitely frostbite, but luckily it's only superficial. For the moment, the best course of action will be to wrap his hands to protect the damaged tissue and prevent further injury. We can't begin the rewarming process until we can be sure to keep them warm or it will only worsen the damage."

Henry freezes up. He looks between them with apprehension on his face.

"Can you wrap each finger separately?" Galeforce asks, watching Henry carefully.

The medic pauses and then answers him, "yes. It would be more efficient to wrap them together, but we can bandage them separately."

He can read Henry's nervousness, how he went still when it was brought up. Henry signed as his main form of communication, and wrapping his hands would take that away. It would be like gagging him.

Galeforce wouldn't do that to him, not if they could avoid it.

"Henry?" he asks, leaving off the rest of the question. He'll understand.

He hesitates still, flicking glances between him and the medic. Finally, he holds his hands out to her.

She gets to work without delay. She's quiet and efficient, carefully bandaging the discolored patches.

Frostbite is something he's dealt with before, even had some himself after getting stranded during a mission. Walking on frozen feet is not an experience he wants to repeat ever again, and having them rewarmed after was equally unpleasant.

But that was during an assignment gone wrong when he was a much younger man. Why the hell had Henry developed it in prison?

The Wall is in an infamously cold part of the country, so far north it could feel like the Arctic. Even so, willingly neglecting a prisoner's health to the point that they develop a condition like frostbite was a massive violation of safety. He thinks about how cold it was in those concrete halls, just how thin the prisoner uniforms seemed to be.

Thinks about how Henry dropped off the face of the earth, a pardoned operative locked up with no trial.

The Wall and its warden had a lot to answer for. He couldn't do anything about it personally, but he had the influence to draw attention to their actions. It was his moral obligation to see this set right.

And maybe it was a little out of spite as well, retribution for the months of worrying for Henry.

The medic steps back, finished with her work. Henry's hands are covered in bandages, each finger separately wrapped. He looks down at his hands and curls his fingers.

"I would suggest not doing that. Keep your hands as still as possible," she says.

Henry goes to sign, stops, then nods. He curls his arms around himself and sinks against the bench. He finally seems to relax, if only just a little.

Getting back to the base would help him, even more so when Charles gets back from his current assignment. If anyone could bring up Henry's spirits, it would be him. The two just seemed to click together.

Charles was going to be upset that he wasn't able to come on this retrieval assignment. He was the worst affected by Henry's disappearance and heavily protested the idea that he had run off and returned to crime. He had vouched for Henry repeatedly. 

His request to be part of this retrieval operation had not gone unnoticed. Galeforce had planned to bring him along from the very beginning. Unfortunately, he was sent off on a separate mission less than a day before the paperwork for Henry's release came through.

But they would be waiting for him when he got back. Being reunited would hopefully bring Henry back out of his shell and pull Charles out of his emotional slump. They were good for each other, and their relationship seemed to bring out the best in both of them.

These last few months have been rough on all of them. The searching and not knowing wore down even Charles's optimism. And judging by the state Henry was in, he had endured much more.

But it was over now. They were returning back to base, his missing operative finally found and secured. 

In the corner of his eye he sees Henry slump down, his eyes slipping closed.

It's a long flight home. Galeforce can let him rest for now.

**Author's Note:**

> If I got some of the info wrong on the medical stuff, whoops. I'm pulling from some old basic medical training and a few internet searches.


End file.
